Page 4 of A Countess of Convenience

“I said…” Judith coughed, her throat too thick to easily bring forth the words. “I said, I’m coming.” She frowned. “Why are you awakening me instead of Larkin?”

“Oh, dear God be praised!” To Judith’s astonishment, Dora jumped up and clasped her hands. “Larkin!”

At the shout for the maid, Judith winced. Her head hurt abominably all of a sudden. Had she taken too much claret last evening? She and Simon had been making a little too merry in the library after dinner.

Larkin appeared, took one look at Judith, and her jaw dropped. “Mrs. Harper! You’re awake!”

Her shout made Judith cringe as her head pounded. “Larkin, please. My head is tender. Why should you both be so excited because I’m awake?” Staring at the maid, Judith suddenly looked at the bed she lay in and cocked her head. “Are we still in London? This isn’t our room at the townhouse.” Her gaze roamed the walls, filled with family portraits. “It looks like my old room at home. At Ruecroft.”

“Dearest, you are at Ruecroft.” Dora took her hand and squeezed it, excitement animating her usually solemn face. “Larkin. Go tell Mrs. Welbourne to come quickly. Judith is awake.”

“Mamma is here?” Nothing was making any sense at all. “But of course if I am at home, she would be there. But why am I home?”

“My dear, it is a very long story that I cannot begin to tell you.” Dora’s smile stretched across her entire visage. A smile Judith saw all too seldom. “Although I will tell you that you have been very ill indeed these past—” Her sister-in-law reddened. “For some time now. But here is your mother.”

Mamma rushed into the room, gasped, and burst into tears. “Judith, my love.” She ran to the bed and threw her arms around Judith. “Oh, we were certain you would die. It is a miracle that you live.” Tears glistened on her mother’s cheeks. “Lord Farringdon has wrought this miracle. God bless him.” Mamma wiped her eyes and turned to Larkin. “Run find Mr. Welbourne and Lord Farringdon. Tell them what has happened.”

The maid bobbed a curtsy and bolted from the room.

“Please speak lower and slower, Mamma. I have a headache right here.” Judith touched her right temple to discover a bandage of some sort tied around her head. With her fingers, she traced the edge of the linen and pressed inward. “Ouch.” That had hurt dreadfully. “Mamma, what has happened to me?”

Her mother glanced at Dora then squeezed Judith’s hands. “I think Dora must tell you what has transpired, my dear. She knows much more about your time at Harper’s Grange than do I.” She ran her hand down Judith’s face, her eyes still wet. “I am only thankful that I have you back now.”

Completely confused and becoming more than a little frightened, Judith struggled to sit up, but when she tried to put pressure on her left arm and hand, they had no strength in them, and she flopped onto her side. What had happened to her?

Dora darted forward. “Let me help you, dear.”

Judith nodded, and her friend helped as she tried to push up with her right arm and hand. To her surprise, she was able to maneuver it almost naturally, though she was still terribly weak. She scooted further up in the bed and fixed her sister-in-law with a frantic gaze. “Dora, tell me what has happened.”

Footsteps pounding up the steps made her pivot her attention to the door, half-expecting to see Simon round the corner, but the gentleman who appeared could not have been more different from her husband. Tall, well-built beneath his buff-colored suit, the man’s physical attributes startled Judith out of her thoughts about her circumstances. His brooding dark eyes fixed on her so intently that she gasped and ceased to breathe.

The gentleman darted forward and took her hand. “Mrs. Harper, can you hear me?”

She gazed into his rugged face—broad nose, tanned skin, firm mouth with lips pressed together sternly—and frowned. “Yes, of course I can hear you. Why do you ask?”

A wide smile broke over his face, his lips now tilting up at the ends, giving him quite a jovial aspect where a moment ago had been despair. “Because had I asked you that last evening, I would not have gotten an answer at all.” The gentleman smiled at the ladies in the room and they all broke first into laughter then a deafening clapping of hands.

Judith clamped her hands over her ears. “Please, for the love all that is holy, stop that infernal noise and fetch me some willow bark tea.”

Larkin scurried away, and the tall gentleman proceeded to look into her eyes, press on her wrist, and finally unwind the curious bandage around her head. “Your head hurts, Mrs. Harper?” He ran his fingers lightly over her head just above her right temple.

“Like a fiend is sitting on my shoulder hammering a horseshoe.” The pain subsided when everyone stopped making noise.

“That’s what you always used to say when you had a headache, Judith.” Her father came forward from behind the gentleman, his usually taciturn demeanor replaced by an animated countenance. “You’ve worked a miracle plain as day, Lord Farringdon. A miracle, mark my words.”

Lord Farringdon. Judith’s gaze darted toward the stranger. Who was this lord and why was he attending her? Where was Mr. Tucker, who had served her and all her family since she could remember? Frowning, she asked, “Mamma, Pappa, who is this?” She glanced at Lord Farringdon. “You are acting awfully familiar for a gentleman to whom I have not been introduced. Where is Mr. Tucker? And where is Simon?”

The room went silent, all smiles wiped away as with a rag.

“Mr. Tucker retired a few months ago, my dear.” Her father was the first to speak. “Lord Farringdon is the new physician come to take his place in the village.”

“Is he really a physician?” She glared suspiciously at him. “If so, then why is he called Lord Farringdon?”

“I see you are having no trouble speaking your mind, Mrs. Harper.” Lord Farringdon laughed. “Were you ever this way?”

“Since she was a small child, my lord.” Her mother spoke up, an indulgent smile on her lips.

“So that has not changed then.” His lordship stood back and crossed his arms. “I have been a practicing physician for ten years, Mrs. Harper. I took my training in Edinburgh and was there conferred with the qualification of Doctor of Medicine. But two years ago, my uncle died, and having by that time no other heir than me, I inherited his title and am now known as the Earl of Farringdon. Hence, I am both a doctor and a peer.”